


A Shot in the Dark

by ladybirdcarina



Category: Leverage
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Eliot being Eliot, Eliot threatening him helps, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt Eliot Spencer, I Solemnly Swear that I am Not John Rogers, M/M, Quinn can be helpful if he wants to be, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25011484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybirdcarina/pseuds/ladybirdcarina
Summary: Quinn finally gets to relax after a job gone pear-shaped when there's a knock on his door.
Relationships: Mr. Quinn/Eliot Spencer (Leverage)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 89





	A Shot in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlannaofRoses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlannaofRoses/gifts).



It had been a very long day when Quinn finally opened the door to his hotel room. He let out a deep exhale as he removed his jacket and shoes, not even caring where they landed. The rest of his clothes followed as he walked into the bathroom for the longest shower that he could take.

  
Once the water was at the right temperature, just this side of scalding, Quinn stepped in and groaned happily as the stream of water beat against his sore muscles.

  
The job he had taken had gone sideways almost as soon as it began. First, the client gave him faulty information on who was protecting the merchandise. Second, the idiot neglected to inform him that he was not the only retrieval specialist that was hired for the job. The blond was actually unable to secure the statue, but luckily still made out like a bandit as the client had paid him generously thanks to Quinn's 'persuasion'.

  
Thinking back on the fight, he found himself sulking at the fact that he never got a look at the other hitter that was hired. As Quinn was arriving, the stranger had been leaving, merchandise in hand. All he'd managed to do was get a shot off, not even sure that he had actually hit the man before the group of hired thugs showed up.

  
"The least he could've done was stay and help knock some heads..." he grumbled as he began scrubbing the dirt from his skin. 

  
It was another forty minutes before he finally shut the shower off, skin pink from the heat but as clean as he was going to get. Wrapping a towel around his waist and grabbing another for his hair('How does Spencer deal with that much hair?'), Quinn padded back into the bedroom and dug a set of flannel pants out of his duffel bag and quickly dried off before changing.

  
He was in the middle of toweling off his hair when there was a knock an the door. Quinn's eyes narrowed as he tossed the towel to the floor and reached for the gun that he had left on the bed. Getting to his feet, he slowly went to the door and took a look through the peephole, only to pull back a moment later in surprise.

  
Eliot Spencer at his door was definitely the last thing he was expecting.

  
Another knock, louder this time, pulled him from his musing as he put the safety back on and tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants. Opening the door, Quinn leaned against the frame and grinned at the other hitter.

  
"Eliot Spencer. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

  
The glare that Eliot pinned him with sent quite the shudder down Quinn's spine yet his expression remained unchanged. Pushing the younger hitter into the hotel room, Eliot closed the door behind him. "You fucking _shot_ me, you asshole."

  
Blinking in surprise, something that he seemed to do a lot when Eliot was involved, Quinn found himself running eyes over the other man before spotting the rapidly reddening spot on the man's right bicep. At that, Quinn let out a groan of annoyance.

  
"You were the other guy that jackass hired? That is so not fair," he whined before dropping down onto the bed, lifting his hips enough to remove the gun from his waistband and setting it on the nightstand after ejecting the clip. "I thought you didn't do retrievals anymore."

  
Eliot shrugged at that. "I was bored and we're between jobs," he explained, sitting on the bed next to where Quinn was splayed out. 

  
"But you got the damn thing so why are you here now instead of with your team?" He asked, one eye open and focused on Eliot.

  
The glare returned. "Because you shot me, idiot. I can't go to the ER with a gunshot wound and it's too awkward an angle for me to properly stitch up."

  
"And your merry band of thieves?"

  
"Not with me, so I need for you to stitch me up, man." Eliot paused as though debating with himself before letting out a quiet huff. "No one else here that I trust to do it right, so take fucking responsibility for your actions."

  
It took a second, but Quinn found himself grinning at Eliot's words. "Well who'd'a thunk it? Is Spencer going soft on li'l ol' me?"

  
Another growl left Eliot's throat, though it did absolutely nothing to stop Quinn's almost manic grin. "Quinn, I am _actively_ bleeding right now. Will you do it or not?"

  
"Say please."

  
Eliot blinked, surprise clear on his face. "Say-fucking hell, man! If you can't do it, just say so." He went to get up when a hand took firm hold of his wrist. Looking back at the other man, Eliot listed a brow in question.

  
Quinn chuckled. "How about you take a shower and clean up while I dig my kit and another pair of sleep pants out of my bag? Maybe getting clean will make you less grumpy," he teased.

  
"Fuckin' hate you," Eliot grumbled as he got to his feet and headed into the bathroom.

  
Laughing quietly, Quinn rolled over and grabbed his bag. He dug around a bit before pulling out a pair of shorts and the first aid kit that he had buried at the bottom. Once he heard the shower start up, the blond hitter rifled through the kit to make sure he had everything he needed as it had been a while since the last time he had restocked. He nodded to himself as he got to his feet and headed into the bathroom with the shorts.

  
"Shorts are on the sink," he called over the water, earning a thumbs up from the top of the curtain.

  
Quinn returned to the bedroom and sat cross legged in the center of the bed as he waited. It wasn't long before the water shut off and only a couple minutes more before Eliot exited the bathroom, dressed with his towel dried hair pulled back and a towel pressed against his arm. Seeing the set-up, Eliot walked over to the bed and took a seat, mirroring Quinn's position with his bad arm facing the other man.

  
It was quiet while Quinn worked, focused completely on disinfecting the area and carefully sewing up both entry wound and exit. "Good thing it was a through-and-through," he murmured as he tied off the end and wiped away any excess blood. As he put everything away, he watched as Eliot bandaged the wound and rotated his arm, barely even wincing at the slight pull of the stitches.

"Thanks, man. 'preciate it," Eliot murmured, fighting off a yawn as the adrenaline began to wear off. "I'll just get out of your hair."

  
"You got a place to crash?" Quinn asked before he realized what he was doing.

  
He looked at Quinn for a few moments before his mouth turned up slightly. "You offerin'?" he asked, drawl thickening from fatigue.

  
"As long as you don't mind sharing a bed with someone who shot you," Quinn shot back with a teasing grin.

  
Eliot let out a quiet snort. "Wouldn't be the first time; prob'ly won't be the last." 

  
Rolling his eyes, Quinn stood up and hit the lights as Eliot pulled out his hair tie and ran his hands through the damp curls before shimmying his way toward the headboard and under the covers.

  
"Door or window?" Eliot asked, ready to move if need be, but Quinn just dropped down on the door side of the bed and crawled under the thick comforter, clicking off the bedside lamp and laying down.

  
Quinn was surprised at how quickly they were both able to relax as neither was used to sharing a bed beyond _'sharing a bed'_. "Hey Eliot," he murmured into the quiet, sure the man wasn't asleep quiet yet.

  
"Hm?"

  
"Sorry I shot you."

  
After a moment, Eliot rolled over and met Quinn's eye, tired but playful gleam shining in his own. "Lucky for me your aim sucks," he snickered.

  
There was something in that look that Quinn, tired as he was, wasn't sure he should be considering. Taking a minute to decide whether or not it would be worth either the maiming or painful death that would follow such an action, he figured 'what the fuck, why not?'.

  
Making sure to telegraph his moves, he slowly brought a hand up and ran his fingers through Eliot's hair before resting it against his cheek. "Promise not to disembowel me?" he asked quietly as he shifted that much closer and ran his thumb lightly over the other's lower lip.

  
"Depends," answered the smoky voice, lips barely moving.

  
"On?"

  
"On whether you hurry the fuck up and kiss me already."

  
Well; who was Quinn to argue with that?


End file.
